Right in front of me
by Ballettmaus
Summary: Her wedding day came as a complete surprise to Lindsay, however it was not the only surprise that the day would hold.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything – otherwise this story might have even happened.

This idea is something Lily Moonlight and I briefly discussed and it didn't take me long to warm up to the idea of writing it for Lily who – although I know she thinks otherwise – I feel is doing so much extra work by reading through my stories and emails. So, as I tend to be under the impression that I don't have enough of a possibility to return the favor, this is to say thank you!

Thanks to cmaddict for making sure that this is presentable.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Handing the signed papers back, Mac offered his staff member an acknowledging nod before turning around and walking the last few steps to Stella's office. Slowing his pace he stopped in the doorway and lifted his hand to announce his presence with a quick knock at the glass but refrained from so at the last moment. Instead he remained where he was, leaning against one of the glass walls to study his long time friend.

Her brows were lightly furrowed in concentration, her green eyes were focused and a few of her curls had fallen in front of her face. A few more now slid out and absent-mindedly she reached to brush them back. It didn't take long until they glided out again and he felt his lips curve into a smile as she pulled them from of her face once more in an automatic motion. A moment later she mumbled something incomprehensible before searching the sheets which were covering the desk, her frown deepening at the mess of papers.

Yet she seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, pulling out the right page from underneath a few others after only a few seconds, a content smile briefly lighting up her features. Quickly, she copied the necessary information into the report, dictating the words to herself as she did so. Her voice was barely a whisper nonetheless it was unmistakable, bringing a new smile to Mac's face.

He hadn't known about that habit of hers up until now and although it was rare, he loved the occasions when he discovered little quirks about her that he previously hadn't been aware of. It always went hand in hand with that small tingle of delight that then spread through his body and that he had come to take sheer pleasure in.

With the paperwork done, she rechecked the report and satisfied with what she read, she signed it before closing the file. She put it with another one when she finally seemed to become aware of his presence, turning her head towards the door.

"Hey," she offered, getting a small smile from him in return as he left his spot by the door to come closer, leaning on the edge of her desk.

"Did Danny talk to you?" he inquired, sticking his hands in his pants' pockets while she responded with a nod.

"He did," she verbally confirmed, her look wandering over the papers strewn before her.

"I think, this is a very sweet thing of him to do for Lindsay," she added, her eyes returning to Mac's and for a moment their gazes held on to each other. The warmth of her voice wasn't reflected in her eyes, instead they were still filled with a mixture of emotions he had a pretty clear idea as to where they came from.

"Are you ok?" Mac asked, his tone now calm and almost intimate.

She didn't reply, instead kept looking at him, her eyes giving him the answer.

"It's just – the irony of that case…," she began, briefly glancing away before her gaze went back to his once more. "I guess, I will never understand how people can deliberately harm others." Her open eyes held on to his, a rare vulnerability portrayed in them that he was aware of being the only one to be allowed to see.

He reached out for her to reassuringly squeeze her shoulder, knowing that she was not simply talking about the murderer but about the motive behind the bomb as well. While it did not get to him as severely as it did to her – he had built too good of a shield over the years to guard himself from all the cruelty he had come to see when with the Marines – he was perfectly able to comprehend her thoughts and had just as many difficulties understanding the reasons which led to such doings.

A grateful smile appeared on her face as she felt for his hand, covering it with hers, her fingers curling around his palm as she now tenderly squeezed his hand.

"I'll be fine," she assured and he knew that she would be.

He hadn't doubted it to begin with yet from time to time he needed to hear it from her, just like he needed to make sure she remembered he was there in case she wasn't fine.

"Was there anything specific you came for?" her voice cut through the stillness of her office, her eyes connecting with his as she withdrew her hand from his.

"I wanted to check on you," he told her honestly, his hand leaving her shoulder as well, "and I wanted to invite you to a late lunch," he added, her glance immediately shifting to her watch. "A very late lunch," he corrected himself, her brows nonetheless rising skeptically.

"More of a very late afternoon snack," she stated and now it were his brows which rose. "But either way, it does sound a lot better than paperwork," she decided, throwing him an almost teasing smile.

"I'm flattered," he retorted, causing her smile to transform into a smirk.

"You should be," she agreed, her eyes lingering on him for another moment before she switched off her computer.

She cleaned up her desk with a precision and speed that amazed him and it took much less time than he would have expected until she stood. Giving him a look that made it obvious that she was somehow very aware of his thoughts, she grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and he let her step out of the office first, his hand going to her back in a habitual movement. Briefly he touched her back yet by the time they were out in the hallway his arm had dropped to his side again and they headed to their lockers in a comfortable silence.

It didn't take them long to gather their stuff, so it was no more than five minutes later when they left their building.

Once again Mac's hand went to her back, this time touching it on purpose, indicating her to turn left. Without a word she did so and his arm had dropped to his side again by the time he joined her walking down the sidewalk until they reached a hot dog vendor.

Realizing that Mac stopped, Stella offered him a mixture of an amused yet knowing and at the same time skeptical look, but he ignored it, busying himself with placing their order. It didn't take more than two minutes until he was handed their hot dogs, passing Stella hers with an almost mischievous spark in his eyes.

"You could have come up with something fancier," she remarked, a smile playing around her lips.

They moved away from the vendor and watching her take a bite, he raised his brows in question.

"What's wrong with the hot dog?" he wanted to know when she didn't answer, falling in step beside her.

"Nothing is wrong with the hot dog," she informed him, causing his brows to rise even higher. "But something fancier simply would have been more – suitable, today."

By now they had reached a small wall framing a few plants in front of one of the office buildings and they settled next to fellow New Yorkers who spent their time after work enjoying the first rays of sunshine of spring.

"Today?" Mac repeated, pretending to think about what she had just said. "Friday, March 13th," he added in what was probably the most clueless voice he could muster.

"You are not superstitious, are you?" he asked, not flinching the tiniest bit as he did so.

However, he was unable to hide the boyish spark his eyes held and the look she threw him not only told him that she had caught on to it but also that she knew that he more than was aware of the answer to his question.

"Or is there some Greek tradition you haven't…" He nevertheless began but stopped mid sentence upon seeing the glare she gave him, unable to keep the smirk from spreading over his face this time.

They didn't have the possibility to fool around too often yet he enjoyed playing her; more than she was aware of. He simply adored to see her eyes light up, adored to watch the mischief crawl into them until her green eyes were glowing, adored the timbre that was added to her voice. It was nothing big, a tiny little thing which he had only come to notice fairly recently but it was what made all the difference; was what had made him challenge her to those teasing banters more and more often lately.

"I can eat your hot dog if you don't want it," he offered, extending his hand and almost instantly being slapped on it.

"You know what that was for," she threw at him before he had a chance to complain, a certain twinkle in her eyes that was often hidden behind the firmness and seriousness their job demanded. Too often for his liking and whenever it showed he felt like wanting to capture it, the moment, wishing he could stare into her eyes all day long.

Yet he couldn't and reluctantly he drew his gaze away from hers, finishing his hot dog, then wiped his fingers on a napkin and threw it in the nearest trash can.

"So?" he started, once he had settled back next to her, "you want your hot dog, you're not superstitious and there is apparently no Greek tradition for Friday the 13th. What is it then?" he wanted to know, amazing himself with how convincing his inquiring voice sounded.

"Don't get smart with me, Mac Taylor," she warned, the spark in her eyes so clearly showing how much delight she took out of their lighthearted chatter.

"But…" he objected, however he was quickly interrupted by her.

"You know full well what this is all about," she stated, causing him to feign surprise. "And if you deny it, I'll cuff you to that lamppost over there and leave you."

Despite himself he felt his heartbeat quicken at the mentioning of the handcuffs, a boyish grin appearing on his face.

"Alone," she added, the spark instantly fading from her eyes as she obviously wasn't sure as to why she had said so.

"Then I certainly wouldn't be able to treat you to something fancier," he tried to distract her from the slight confusion.

"You are not doing it anyway," she replied, a trace of uncertainty still audible in her voice.

"That's only because it's not our wedding day," he countered and she choked on her last bite of hot dog.

Instantly he felt a wave of guilt wash over his body, watching her cough, unsure of what to do. Eventually she calmed down again and he let her take a few breaths, realizing only then that is hand was gently resting on her back. He considered withdrawing it but decided it against it and instead began to rub over her back slowly, his touch feathery and caring.

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly and she only nodded, coughing once more.

Her eyes had a watered, a tear now slipping out of her eyes and he reached out, tenderly brushing the salty drop from her cheek.

"That means," she started, her voice still a little rough, her eyes meeting his, "I would have to marry you to get treated to something other than a hot dog?"

Her tone was skeptical and questioning with a hint of amusement, however there was something in her eyes that he would have identified as earnest curiosity. Yet it was so faint that he was less than confident about it and as he now searched for it, it appeared to be gone.

However, the teasing mood had vanished as well, silence settling between them as he rummaged through his mind for a proper response.

"I took you to the Argentinean place," was all he came up with, the playfulness in his voice rather forced.

"That you did," she mumbled, drawing her gaze away from his for a brief moment. "And we both ended up ordering the House Burgers because they were out of everything else." A smile crossed his face at the memory and with her eyes returning to his, he found her to mirror it.

While the restaurant itself had been disappointing, the evening had been anything but and they had ended up in a small, intimate café, talking and laughing until they had been called out around 3:30 in the morning.

"But it wasn't a hot dog," Mac defended himself, bringing a smirk to Stella's face.

"It certainly wasn't," she agreed, a small twinkle having returned to her eyes, that she locked with his.

Both were silent for another moment, relishing the memories of that night before almost simultaneously getting up. They were about to turn to head back to the lab when Mac reached for Stella, wanting to grab her arm but clasping her hand instead. To his surprise her fingers responded, curling around his, making their hands hold for the briefest of an instant and a split second later it was their eyes that connected.

She was unmistakably just as astonished as he was, however, the surprised left her features as quickly as it had come and by the time their hands had slid back out of the other one's, it was gone. Nevertheless there was a tiny bit of confusion that remained, a confusion wasn't brought upon because of the gesture itself but because of the emotions that had passed through their bodies.

Of course, they had touched before, even more intimate than that and probably inappropriate for friends – even best friends. Still, their hands bonding in what was such a clear and distinctive hold was different; was new; was triggering a tiny bolt of electricity inside of them. It was only the lightest of a shiver, nonetheless the sensation was there and undeniably so.

"The – flowers," Mac muttered, clearing his throat to cover up that he had not yet completely recovered from the rush of emotions.

"I promised Danny we would get some flowers for Lindsay," he explained firmly as if the two previous words had not been said.

Wordlessly Stella nodded and for another moment their eyes held on to each other before Mac shifted, turning around. They crossed the street in a silence that was on contrary to what could have been expected a comfortable one and at ease with one another they headed for the only flower shop in what was probably a five mile radius.

In fact, it was the sole store in that radius and at first they had been wondering why anyone would set up a flower shop in a district like that or how one was able to live off the income. No one had believed it to be a smart move yet when they had seen the various men in business suits rushing in and out of the store before or after work, that opinion had quickly changed. At various times of the day the little store was downright overcrowded and Stella had more than once joked that she should quit and open a perfume shop right next door.

Luckily the flower shop was empty as they now entered it and taking in the mixed scent of the flowers, they halted close to the door. For a moment they glanced around and inspected the different flowers when the store owner noticed them, offering them her services. Stella explained what they had come for and they were awarded a choice of flowers suitable for the occasion.

Exchanging a look, Mac gave Stella a clueless shrug and although her gaze showed that she was not any more an expert than him, his eyes urged her to go on. The hesitation that followed was obvious and Mac expected her to object, opening his mouth to be actually even quicker than her, however, she wordlessly turned to the sales woman.

With a voice that perfectly concealed her indecisiveness she then discussed the flowers, skillfully leading the conversation so the young florist made the choices for her without knowing it. Eventually Stella was handed a full bouquet and after Mac had paid, they left the shop, heading back to the lab where the car was still parked.

The flowers in Stella's hand attracted a few curious glimpses by passing pedestrians, some of them unable to stay discreet and involuntarily Mac felt his own eyes shift to her as well. Quite obviously she was lost in her own thoughts and he studied her for a moment, then the flowers she was holding. She was probably the only woman who looked as lost as she had when asked to choose a bouquet for a wedding, his thoughts drifting back to the question he had almost asked.

They had never discussed it – probably the only topic that had never taken an extensive part of their conversations during the past few years – but he simply had assumed that she, like the majority of women, had at least to some degree pictured her own wedding. Certainly, she was in so many ways unlike every woman but with that he simply had presumed it was a general thing.

After all, it was no secret that she did want that special someone in her life. The one person who would care for her, would wait for her with inviting arms after a hard day at work, would share happiness and sadness; would simply be there for her until the very end.

However, given the history she had had with boyfriends and dates, he had to admit that it was not that absurd that had she not yet imagined her own wedding. It was more than understandable that her focus lay more on finding that someone special first before thinking any further and again he felt his eyes run over her slender figure.

Her curls were lightly bouncing in sync with her rhythmic steps and he was suddenly overcome by the desire to hold his hand underneath them. He was curious to find out how it would feel to have them bounce up and down from his palm, his brows rising skeptically even before the thought was finished.

"Mac," he gladly let her voice pull him out of his overeager imagination. "Is there a secret passage to the parking garage you haven't told me about?" she inquired the moment he realized that he had gone further than she had and actually passed the entrance.

"I was actually checking that for myself," he replied, surprising himself a little with the response as his mind was in the process of analyzing the reasons for those uncharacteristic thoughts of his.

Ignoring the skeptic look she gave him he turned and walked the few steps back towards her, then they quietly entered the building they worked in. They crossed the lobby in silence and a few minutes later climbed into the car, to soon after join the early afternoon traffic of Manhattan's streets.

The comfortable silence had settled back between them and while Mac's thoughts were still gnawing on the strange diversion they had taken, his gaze shifted sideways at the next red traffic light, only moments after they had left the lab.

Stella's eyes were fixed on the flowers resting in her lap, her eyes absent, the sight of her causing a curiosity to arise inside of Mac. He would have loved to know what she was thinking about, wondered if maybe her mind was now revolving around the same question his brain had been busy with not too long ago. The likelihood had his interest in her thoughts grow, the answer attracting him even more yet as much as he tried there was no hint in her features as to what was going on within the wall of her skull. She was so lost in her own world, he was sure that a bomb could probably have gone off right next to her and she wouldn't have noticed.

But much to his amazement she seemed to sense his gaze since she suddenly lifted her head, turning it so their eyes briefly met. It was him who had to break the connection as he had to shift his attention back to the road yet he was aware of her eyes remaining on him and it took him a lot of self control not to turn back to her at the next chance he had.

Eventually, though, he couldn't and especially didn't want to resist anymore, glancing once more sideways. The mental absence had returned to her eyes and even if it was nothing more than a second that he looked at her, he instantly noticed the change of color.

It only happened when she was deeply lost in thought and to this day he hadn't figured out how it was possible – scientifically it surely wasn't. But it was the most fascinating color he had ever seen, the white of her eyes mixing with the green, lining the emerald shade with thin lines of white.

"Did you ever consider marrying again?" her voice suddenly cut through the stillness.

He glanced at her once more, her eyes still fixed on him yet they had cleared up again and after briefly connecting with hers, his gaze went back to the traffic.

"No," he simply said.

It was a statement that did not and at the same time did need more explanation, the silence filling with an expectant tension. However, he didn't answer and he heard her shuffle, obviously taking her eyes off of him before the stillness settled back upon them, the steady humming of the engine all that was heard for a moment.

"You know how – couples often talk about this?" his calm voice then added a second sound to the buzzing. "About what they want the partner to do in case something happens?"

Although it was more of a rhetorical question, he paused, giving her another quick look. She was returning that with anticipating eyes, urging him to go on and he planned on doing so but took his time to decide how to continue from there, focusing back on the road.

"Claire talked about it, too," he informed her quietly. "Or she wanted to. At those moments; after we watched a movie and were lying on the couch, not wanting to get up straight away or at night when we were unable to sleep. Those typical times when you enjoy the other one's presence but also start to think about – life – and wonder about the future."

There was still a small stab of pain somewhere in his heart, that tiny bit which would always be there, yet overall it had diminished significantly over the years and he was able to sort through the memories without being overwhelmed by sadness. It had frightened him at first, had caused him to feel guilty and anxious that he wasn't sufficiently honoring Claire; that he was betraying her. At time he had almost forced the sorrow upon him until Stella had with patience and infinite care made him understand that this was the right way to remember her; the way Claire would wish to be remembered.

"I never let her," Mac confessed, his voice now full of its deep timbre. "I never gave her the chance." Again he made a short pause and took a profound but quiet breath. "I never wanted to hear it because – " He interrupted himself once more and this time he stole an almost self-conscious glimpse at Stella.

She was listening to him intensely, waiting for him to go on, although she was more than obviously aware of what was to come.

"I never thought we would – need that talk," he continued nevertheless. There was neither a trace of sorrow nor regret in his voice, rather it was subdued; was the voice of a child who knew exactly that it had done something wrong – and in a way he had. He simply had assumed that he and his wife would grow old together; in fact, he had not once questioned it – despite of everything he had seen in life.

But he had been a Marine and to him it had been natural that he would be there to protect his wife from all harm. That there were things which even he had no power to control he had been too proud and confident to consider – and it was that which had drowned him in misery; the difficulty to accept that something so utterly out of his control and power had happened.

Of course, he had mourned Claire; had mourned the love of his life yet he had also sunken deeper and deeper into guilt until about a year and a half after it had happened. Until Stella had yelled at him for the only time in the aftermath of his wife's death. Short and right down to the point but nonetheless very intensely.

He had cursed her, had only talked to her when absolutely necessary while quietly licking his wounds and about a week later he had put both their lives in jeopardy because of simple carelessness. Yet in spite of what he would have expected she had not yelled at him again. Instead she had forced him to take the rest of the day off, had taken him to her place – something which he had only later learnt the significance of – and had made him talk. Or rather, she had talked at first, a lot, however as the evening had progressed he had found himself opening up and had ended up shedding silent tears in her arms as he finally had admitted to his anger. The anger that Claire had gone from this world without asking; that she had left him behind – alone; that she had died despite his conviction that she would always be by his side and that he had failed to protect her.

To this day he had no idea as to how long Stella had held him and listened to him yet he knew with a certainty that without that night they would not be sharing the bond they shared now. Surely, they had been friends before but had that night not happened, they would still be just that – ordinary friends.

However, the night had happened and she had offered him endless words of comfort and even more had she given him innumerable soothing touches, countless reassuring looks.

One of those reassuring looks she was giving him now as he threw her yet another glance.

"Claire would want you to marry again," she stated very much convinced of what she said once again offering words of support. "You know that she would want you to be as happy as you possibly can and if that includes marriage, it would be what she would want you to do."

Her words were soft nonetheless clear, with a hint of firmness that was almost daring him to object would he have wanted to. But he didn't since he knew that every single word was true and could have been spoken from Claire herself.

Wordlessly he turned his gaze back to the road, aware that her eyes lingered on his body until he eventually heard her shift. Unable to resist his curiosity he took another quick glance, finding her to have leaned her head back in the seat, staring out the window.

She was watching the New Yorkers drift by their car; was watching the people hurry to whatever business they had to attend to and a peculiar smile began to tug at his lips. The images of rushing folks were so clear in front of his eyes and although he knew how ridiculous it was, he was under the impression of being able to see through her eyes; to observe what she was observing.

Raising his brows skeptically over himself for the second time that day, he gave Stella a shy look to make sure she had not – however she would have – caught on to his thoughts. Yet at the same time he felt a strange warmth creep through his body, vanishing as quickly as it had come, nonetheless leaving him with an odd sensation of emptiness.

"Would you want to marry again?" Stella's voice provided a welcome distraction – also not for the first time and he briefly found himself wonder if mind reading was possible after all.

Certainly, it wasn't and he wasn't truly believing it but sometimes Stella's intuition was on the verge of being freaky – even to him.

Forcing his thoughts back to her question, he wanted to answer yet there was nothing his mind provided him with to say. A little perplexed he shifted for the umpteenth time, meeting her open eyes, holding them, realizing a second later that he started to stare. He wanted to, too, her simply so welcoming, so protective, however, he quickly reminded him that he was driving, tearing his gaze away from hers.

"I don't know," he finally replied, inevitably throwing her another glance. It only lasted for a split second, but it was enough for him to catch on to the debate which his response had prompted inside of her.

Apparently though, the outcome was to drop the subject for now as she didn't say anything else and with each of them pursuing their own thoughts, silence settled upon them once more.

Normally, Mac would have left the topic alone as well, after all, he had given sort of an answer. However, her question had kindled a small fire inside of him, a curiosity about why he didn't know or if he maybe did without being aware of it.

Strangely enough, he had not once considered either of Stella's questions himself. He had spent so many nights wondering what his life would have been like had Claire lived; had wondered if he would have wanted to take the next step with Peyton; if he would have wanted her to move in. But never had his thoughts included the possibility of a second marriage.

He simply had never gone further than a relationship in the labyrinth of emotions, the path that lay ahead narrowing and darkening. Yet on contrary to his confidence, his interest had grown and as he now turned from the street to enter the parking garage, his mind took the first step into the unknown.

Weaving his way through the passages, he passed through lines of parked cars, taking a few turns until he finally found a parking spot. He parked the car and shut off the engine but instead of opening the door, he shifted so he was facing Stella yet another time, causing her to let go of the door again.

"I suppose – that someone special…," he let the sentence trail, sorting through what was going on in his mind and giving her the chance to catch on to what he was talking about. "I haven't had that relationship," he emphasized the 'that' as his eyes locked with hers, "which would lead me to want to consider marriage," he spoke his thoughts out loud, holding her gaze firmly with his.

He was only faintly aware of his increased heartbeat, his focus lying solely on her eyes and the surprise which was clearly visible. She had obviously not expected to hear anything else about that topic – at least not so soon and without her having brought it up again.

Yet he knew how much she treasured those rare moments when he opened up to her on his own; cherished them for what they were – the greatest display of trust he had to offer – and he felt a pleasant tingle flip flop through his stomach.

"Yet," he then heard someone say, realizing a split second later that it had been him, the word itself small and insignificant but suddenly so full of meaning.

The look on her face was just as startled as he was on the inside, a question quickly forming in his mind that was mirrored in her eyes. However, she didn't ask and his body responded with relief.

He knew that he would find the answer just a little further down in the labyrinth he had still not left but he had a hunch as to where the path would lead, lacking the courage to follow it.

She, on the other hand, seemed to do that; seemed to have entered the same labyrinth, quickly approaching the place he was standing at and for an instant he expected her to take his hand to gently guide him to where he was not confident enough to go alone. She had done so so many times before, today however, she didn't have the intention to; didn't even seem to be on the same path as him. Nevertheless she stopped searching his eyes, drawing her gaze away, her body following an instant after that as she reached for the door. Wordlessly she climbed out of the car, leaving him to wonder whether she had found a different, a shorter way to the answer.

A little hesitant he, too, got out of the car and briefly studied her features, finding them to reveal nothing but a slight demand to join her. He did and dropping the subject altogether, they walked to the elevator which swept them up a moment later.

The floor they exited on was rather busy and as they wove their way through the crowd several looks were thrown into their direction. The smile which went along with it didn't leave any doubt what was on the people's mind and Mac and Stella couldn't help but glance at each other, amusement twinkling in both their eyes.

Quickly they reached the end of that hallway, the one they then stepped into empty, except for the couple which was heading towards them. It was obvious where they were coming from by the looks they gave each other alone and Mac felt his lips curl into a knowing smile that he offered the newlyweds.

"Good luck," the male replied, Mac's eyes shooting up in surprise as he stopped.

Caught off guard, all he was capable of doing was to smile again before he shifted his gaze to Stella. She had come to a halt as well, perplexity written all over her face as she stared after the young couple but eventually she turned towards Mac.  
"We're not getting married," she stated although the pair was long out of earshot and he wasn't even sure the words had been meant for them in the first place.

There was a certain firmness in them, something in her voice which made him study her, the feeling that she had wanted to convince herself persistently mixing with his thoughts.

"I know," he therefore felt compelled to answer, their eyes staying connected, hers holding the same emotion he had detected in her voice.

It wasn't any more distinct though and before he had a chance to explore it any further, she broke away. Inevitably his eyes lingered a little longer, then he hurried to catch up with her and they resumed their walk in silence, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps the only noise which could be heard. It wasn't long until they approached the door they were here for, another couple coming out of the room as they wanted to enter it. Both of them looked rather worn out and seemed completely oblivious to anyone around them, causing Stella to give them an estranged glance.

"Getting married is harder than you think," Mac said quietly in response to her unasked question, watching as skeptics crept into her features.

"You only have to say "yes" in there," she replied, pointing behind her to indicate where 'there' was.

"The "yes" is the hard part," Mac informed her in a most serious voice, the skeptics in her face increasing. Yet he didn't bother to explain it any further since he was sure she had heard about wedding jitters despite not spending a lot of thought on her own marriage.

Instead he held her eyes for an instant longer but eventually turned to open the door. As usual he let her enter first, his hand going to her back yet again as she stepped in front of him into the room. It took them only a glance to determine that neither Danny nor Lindsay were present and simultaneously they shifted, checking their wrist watch.

Despite the heavy traffic they were early and unsure of how they could spend the time until the husband-and-wife-to-be to arrived, they looked at each other.

"Do you have your money order?" a female asked, their heads snapping into the direction of where the voice had come from.

The young woman's face was blank and somewhat indifferent but when neither Stella nor Mac reacted, slight puzzlement crossed her face and she repeated the question.

"We're not getting married," Stella quickly informed her, her voice identical to earlier and immediately Mac felt the same sensation that there was more to those words return.

"We're just waiting for someone who will," Mac added, once more because he thought it was necessary to say something.

The clerk eyed them a bit suspiciously before giving them a slight shrug and pointing to a few chairs in the far back of the room, she went back to her paperwork. Exchanging a quick look, Mac and Stella took her up on the offer and had just sat down when the door opened. Their eyes lifted in anticipation, however, it was just another young couple who entered the room. The two were clasping their hands nervously, eagerly complying the money and Mac found his lips to curl into a knowing smile once more.

Memories of when he and Claire had been at that point came back to him, the feeling of a million butterflies rummaging around his stomach still so very present. He had been unlike most men at that age; had already seen so much in life and his youthful naïveté had long been gone. Yet he hadn't been immune to nervousness and his wedding day had been and most certainly would probably be the only day in his entire life that he had almost backed out of something.

The anxiety simply had overtaken him and he hadn't known how to deal with it; with all those doubts which had suddenly surfaced. If it hadn't been for his best man, he was sure to this day, he wouldn't have made it to the altar and while he would have scolded himself for it eternally back then, he had started to think different about it ever since 9/11.

From that day on, when his world had been shattered into innumerable pieces he had spent hours contemplating whether Claire might still be alive had he not made it church. At one point he had even been able to persuade himself that it would, in fact, have saved her life had he not married her, but Stella had been quick to tear that conviction apart.

Leaving him neither room nor time to object she had listed countless reasons as to why those thoughts were the most ridiculous ones she had ever heard and why he should never ever dare to consider them again.

She had spoken with such an outrage, had scolded him like a small boy and to this day he only remembered half of the reasons yet he knew for a certainty that there was one which had escaped her as well. One which he had never contemplated before either but that now hit him like bolt of lightning.

Without Claire he was sure he would have gone back to Chicago, missing out on the greatest friend life had to offer.

"That doesn't look too hard," Stella's voice once again pulled him back to the present.

He stole a glance into the direction of the couple who had apparently just said the "yeses", a smile appearing on his lips over her determination.

"Looks can be deceiving," Mac pointed out, his eyes only briefly grazing Stella's as he went on to watch the young couple. The groom was nervously fidgeting with the rings, Mac's features filling with knowing sympathy.

"Maybe you just don't remember it correctly," she teased and their eyes met again for a second.

"Are you implying I forgot?" he inquired, trying hard to sound upset but the twinkle in her gaze made it all but easy for him.

"Memories tend to get – fuzzy when you get… older," she replied, her eyes glowing almost flirtatiously, a heart-melting smile gracing her lips that grew even wider at the warning glare he threw her.

"How about you try for yourself, if you don't believe me," he retorted, tearing his gaze away from hers and crossing his arms in front of his chest in a pretense of being hurt.

He was very well aware of the smirk which was plastered across Stella's face right now and he would have loved to see the mischief in her eyes, nevertheless he kept his focus on the marrying couple. It was her turn to slip the ring on his finger and the difficulties she had, had Mac's thoughts once again drift back to his own wedding years ago.

Claire's biggest fear before the ceremony had been troubles with getting the ring on Mac's finger. She had wanted it to be perfect and while he had assured her that things would go smoothly she still had thrown him a look of relief when his ring had slipped on without any resistance.

"Ok," Stella's voice suddenly cut through his memories and with his thoughts considering the possibility that she was following a pattern, he turned to face her, slightly confused.

"What's ok?" he wanted to know.

"Try it – I want to," she stated, her eyes holding his as firmly as her words had been spoken.

Staring at her, he piece by piece comprehended what she meant, his mind going instantly blank while his heart seemed to stop beating entirely. He couldn't remember how to breathe yet when he somehow identified the hammering that rang loudly in his ears as his racing heart, he knew that he still did. How he did, he had no idea though and completely paralyzed he watched her put the flowers on the chair next to her.

He failed to recall the exact words he had said to her, all that was left in his memory was the fact that he had suggested her to try it herself. However, he was sure that he had with no syllable indicated that he meant right now, with him. Nevertheless she now got up from her seat, his eyes widening with incredulity and he opened his mouth but there was nothing he could have offered her, his brain still feeling like one huge puddle. It was a sensation that was in no way comparable to anything he had experienced before and he struggled to get his emotions back under control.

Slowly, he noticed the effort to be a success, his wildly beating heart calming, his mind beginning to function again – but outside his range of influence and only on a limited basis. An excitement rushed through his body as he found himself back in his labyrinth of emotions, standing at the exact point where he had lacked the courage to go to earlier.

Instantly his pulse shot up once more nonetheless he rose to his full height, his eyes locking with hers. Subconsciously, he realized the puzzlement which spread over her features, the blood draining from her face yet all he did was extent his hand invitingly.

"Mac," she started, the rest of her objection, however, died on her lips. Instead she kept staring at him, her gaze obviously unable to leave his, just like he was incapable to move.

He could see the emotions passing behind her eyes, her thoughts racing visibly, his heartbeat increasing with each moment that she didn't react.

It was certainly a pure act of insanity and without a doubt the most reckless and daring decision he had and ever would take. Yet the desire for her to grab his hand got stronger by the second, growing constantly with the fear that she wouldn't.

"Now?" she then asked, the blue and green of their eyes exerting a pull on each other like the opposite poles of magnets.

"Yes," he heard his voice confirm matter-of-factly.

When she didn't react, an anxious tension was quick to build inside of him until something warm suddenly started to cover his hand. Relief washed over him the same time that his heartbeat reached what surely was its upper limit and with his eyes still chained to hers, he closed his fingers around hers.

Without knowing where it came from, he offered her a timid smile and while he didn't see it, his instincts told him that she actually returned it. Tenderly he squeezed her hand before he led her to the desk where the young woman looked up from the paperwork with the same indifferent expression she had had on her face earlier.

"So, you changed your mind?" she asked, unable to conceal the curiosity.

It was not exactly a question and since Mac and Stella knew that she already was aware of the answer, neither offered a reply. They wouldn't have been able to in the first place since they hadn't fully caught on to what their hearts had together with their minds initiated and they simply exchanged a brief glance as Mac reluctantly let go of her hand.

He paid and while the young woman took the necessary information for the forms, he pulled both of Stella's hands into a gentle yet firm grip. She instantly responded, her fingers linking with his and with the begin of the short ceremony, their eyes connected once again. It was just an exchange of vows but it was enough to have Mac's heart racing as he repeated the text the clerk's droning voice prompted.

The words flowed easily out of his mouth, sounding so right, so perfect as he said them; sounded like they had been meant to be offered to her – and her alone.

By the end he hardly heard the clerk anymore, simply knowing what he had to say, a barely visible smile forming on his lips. For a split second she returned it yet it had vanished almost before it had come and with the last word of his vow, he felt her hands tightening around his. He suppressed the knowing smile which surged to his face, listening to her recite the words, immediately becoming aware of the light tremble in her voice. It was faint, all the while being so distinct and although no one else probably would have ever caught on to it, it made him realize that she was more nervous than she had ever been in her life.

Biting back the comment that was laying on his tongue, he was unable to keep the mischievous spark out of his eyes and he already took a delight out of the fact that he would be able to tease her about it later. Now, however, he began to let his thumbs brush over the back of her hands, soothing her and she truly calmed under his caring touch.

She concluded her vows in what was surely the softest voice he had ever heard and with their eyes still locked, they listened to being declared husband and wife, both taking a deep breath in anticipation of what was to come. As tradition had it, they were given the possibility to kiss and reflexively they made a step towards each other, before halting.

His eyes drifted over her lips and he observed them curl into the hint of a smile, then his gaze returned to hers, locking with it once more. Her eyes were filled with a most mysterious glow, giving them a totally new shade of color and intrigued, he finally leaned in to her. She did the same and sooner than expected, their lips met, surprise causing them to slightly draw back again.

Yet they didn't stay apart for long, their eyes slowly but determinedly closing as their lips touched anew. Very careful and somewhat timidly he let his mouth wander over hers, a warm tingle running down his spine when he felt her respond. With tiny movements they floated across each other's lips, exploring their tenderness, finally tasting what they had only felt so far.

What probably was the most incredible sensation rushed through their bodies as he pulled her a little closer, his gentle touch getting slightly more demanding. Yet she rejected his try of increase in passion and for another moment they kissed tenderly then she began to draw back. Reluctantly he followed, the intensity slowly fading until their lips fully parted, an emptiness quickly settling upon his body.

It was the same but increased emptiness he had previously felt in the car yet this time he kept his eyes shut, hoping to enhance the feelings still tumbling inside of him, burning every touch, every taste, every sensation, simply every detail of that first kiss into his memory. Only when he was sure he had it all stored in his head for eternity did he let his eyelids flutter open, his gaze immediately falling on the emerald color of her eyes. The mysterious glow continued to flicker deep within, entrancing him until he felt her pull her right hand out of his.

With the fingers of her other hand remaining interlaced with his, she took a step towards the desk and taking the pen which was handed her, she placed her dynamic signature on the form. As he watched her sign, Mac felt his heartbeat increase once again, a warm feeling joining the excitement and for the first time he wished to be left-handed. To be ale to keep holding her hand while making their unity legal would have been perfect but it wasn't possible and he had to break the ongoing hold of their hands.

He took the pen she was passing on to him, the longing for her touch being replaced by a huge satisfaction that settled into is body as he put his signature next to hers, sealing their marriage.

By the time he gave the pen back, his eyes had returned to Stella's and taking her hand back into his, he offered her what was the most happiest smile she had ever seen from him. She, too, smiled at him, less broadly but nevertheless as happy, her gaze filled with a warmth that was beyond his imagination. But it was there, unquestionably so, awakening an anticipation for those times when she would trap him in that gaze until she would have gotten what her little stubborn head desired.

He was handed the copy of their papers and neatly folded them as he followed Stella back to the chairs, tugging them into his suit jacket when a commotion was heard on the outside of the office door. In a quick motion, Stella swept the flowers from the chair, then positioned herself next to Mac only instants before the door opened.

The beaming smile Danny and Lindsay had on their faces, told them what they needed to know and after exchanging hugs and congratulations, Mac handed Danny the rings. Strangely he had all forgotten about them only minutes ago – not that he had had those in his pocket but that he and Stella hadn't had any. It hadn't mattered to him at all, it had been perfect without yet now he suddenly felt the lack of it, the urge to rush the upcoming ceremony along arising inside of him.

There was nothing he wanted more for Danny and Lindsay than for them to be able to share that same happiness he and Stella had, to experience the same excitement and cherish the moment. However, the wish to present Stella with a ring, to get her that symbol of their union and more importantly their love, was fast to expand through his body. It took him a significant amount of self-control not to give in to an unusual impatience he felt surging through his bones and he had to downright force his concentration to remain on the ongoing ceremony.

As Danny now offered the exact same words to Lindsay that he had vowed to Stella, reality began to sink in and he turned his head to the woman next to him; to his best friend who he realized had truly become his wife.

Never, in his wildest dreams, would he have thought that possible but at that moment he found himself to wondering why. She was his match in so many ways, she understood him like no one else did – better than he understood himself at times – and she had once more proven it just today. All those years, she had been there yet he had been too blind to see that – her – and the signs; the ones that had been initiated by fate as well as the signs she had given him. Instead he had spent hours contemplating the probability of someone else being out there for him when that someone had been right in front of him, already sharing an enormous part of his life with him.

Considering it, marrying her seemed only like a logical consequence and while he had to admit that the way they had done it might not have been how it was intended to happen, there was nothing which could have felt more right. As much as it had been a head over heels decision not a single doubt existed, but all of a sudden all those concerns that went hand and hand with a marriage came crashing down on him. More than anything was he overcome by the desire to be the perfect husband she deserved and it was the fear of not being able to live up to her expectations which was responsible for the pang of panic.

At the same time he couldn't help the knowing smile that formed on his face, aware that those thoughts normally came before a wedding, causing the unnerving anxiety. That he was experiencing them now was only natural and all the more proof that marrying her had been the right – and only – choice to make.

As if on cue he felt her head lean against his shoulder, his first reaction the urge to back away. However, he didn't but let his eyes wander to Danny and Lindsay and finding them wrapped up in gazing at each other, he put his arm around Stella's waist as his point of focus returned to her.

She was watching Danny and Lindsay with a dreamlike smile, a warm tingle spreading through his body at her sight. Her curls were framing her soft features, one of them having fallen in front of her slightly glazed eyes and he wanted to brush it back, wanted to feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips while he did so. Yet he refrained from doing so and instead drew his eyes away from her.

Danny and Lindsay were in the process of exchanging rings, the gold catching the light as they slipped it on their fingers, the plain band meaning so much more than its simplicity said.

They then were declared husband and wife and instinctively Mac and Stella pulled away from each other, waiting until Danny and Lindsay had kissed – much more confident than Mac and Stella before – and signed the papers, before offering further hugs and congratulations.

Together the four of them stepped out of the office a moment later and with a huge, proud smile on his face, Danny took the hand of his newly-wedded wife. Automatically, Mac felt the urge to mirror his action, at least he wanted to link his hand with Stella's, as well, however, he didn't. He simply moved a little closer to her, listening as the two women chattered lively while all of them walked down the hallway.

There were less people this time but just as many looks thrown into their direction and knowing they were meant for Danny and Lindsay, Mac felt an almost guilty pleasure run through his body. Being aware of something only two other people in the world were knowledgeable about was giving him a strange satisfaction and out of an impulse he now did reach for Stella's hand.

He didn't clasp it like Danny was doing with Lindsay, he simply intertwined his index and middle fingers with hers, nevertheless she jerked in surprise. For a split second he expected her to pull away yet she didn't and they kept their fingers lightly entangled for the rest of the way. They were almost reluctant to get to the elevator but discreetly let their fingers slip away from the other one's once they did and an instant later were squeezed in between a crowd of people going down.

Luckily they were among the first to get out and the four of them walked towards their cars in silence, stopping in front of Danny and Lindsay's. Much to Mac's relief there was no invitation to have dinner together. He certainly wouldn't have minded to spend the evening with the young couple, he did enjoy the times when the team came together. However, tonight he didn't want to have to be with anyone but his best friend – his wife.

Quickly – maybe a bit too fast – he and Stella said goodbye then walked the few steps to their own car, waving at the younger CSI's as they drove by. His gaze lingered a little longer on the black vehicle but eventually he turned towards Stella, finding her to lean against the passenger side, silence settling between them.

"Did we just get married?" she asked incredulously, her eyes locking with his.

"I think – we did," he confirmed, not flinching, his gaze steadily fixed on hers.

"Why?" she inquired. There was no emotion, no shock, no regret or anything else to be found in her voice.

"Because you wanted to," he reminded her without any blame, rather with a hint of teasing in his tone.

"I wanted to see how you would react," she defended herself, a smile creeping up inside of him.

"You saw that," he replied, watching as she broke into a huge grin. "Now you are stuck with me."

"Don't be too sure about that," she teased back. "We can still revoke the license."

At that, he offered her a grin as well but shook his head firmly, this time brushing the curl that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear.

"No, we can't," he stated, delighting as he now felt the softness of her skin underneath his fingers.

"We can't?" she inquired, her brows furrowed in question, however, her eyes were twinkling. "Why not?"

"Because I say so," he decided, a sly smirk appearing on his face, "and I'm the boss."

"You wish," she shot back, offering him a grin as well, so that for a moment they stood there, smirking at each other, enjoying the warmth that spread through their bodies until her features grew serious again.

"Why did we do it, Mac?" she wanted to know, his smirk fading as well.

He contemplated the answer, studying her as he did, her eyes watery clear, giving him the impression that he was able to see right through to them to her very soul.

"Because there was nothing we wanted more tonight," he explained, his voice soft and tender, his hand reaching out to gently brush over her cheek while his eyes never left hers.

"We have fallen in love, Stella," he whispered, his fingers leaving her skin, his hand sinking down again. "A while ago, without noticing it – and we both needed to get married tonight." There was no doubt, no question in his words, just the plain statement that they were.

She didn't respond, all she did do was keep looking at him with that ocean-like expression that was impossible to read and he felt something similar to panic begin to form that she didn't agree when the purity of her eyes began to vanish. Within seconds they were filled with sheer affection, the touch of a smile appearing on her face and he instantly responded, relieve washing over him.

He knew there would be more questions later, lots of them, above all why they simply had not started with dates first, why they had been afraid to take that step but had leaped straight into a life as husband and wife without any fear or moment of hesitation.

But that was for tonight or tomorrow, for now they were aware of everything they had to be and he reached for her hand, gently entangling his fingers with hers. Immediately, the green of her eyes began to glow, a love and affection visible that was undeniably a look of pure emotion – and it was for him. Him alone.

"I want a simple one, too," her quiet voice echoed through the parking garage, confusion spreading over his face. "The ring," she explained softly, "I don't care for stones or carat. All I care for is that it's a match to yours."

Unsure of how to reply, he kept looking at her, squeezing her hand as he felt his heart swell with the same love and affection that her eyes were still offering him.

"I love you, Stella," he whispered, surprise visible on her features for a split second before the tenderness returned.

Instinctively, she lifted her hand, placing her palm on his cheek so gingerly, holding it in place as he realized that this was the first time he had offered those words to someone ever since Claire. But it had come natural and effortless just like the wedding vows, just like the wedding itself, a completeness now starting to engulf him. It was a sensation that was new to him; new in that form and never would he have imagined that something so fulfilling even existed.

Yet it did and it was him who was feeling it; was feeling it because of that woman standing before him. That woman he loved more than he would ever be able to comprehend.

Reflexively, he raised his hand, his fingers curling around the back of her and taking it off his face, he searched for her fingers, entangling his with hers. She responded by running her fingers over his, very obviously enjoying the gentle touch and with their gazes still connected, he took a step towards her. A flame of desire immediately was lit in her eyes, a delightful burning spreading through his body that same moment and he let it sink before leaning in to her.

He diminished the distance between their faces rather swiftly, her breath soon touching his skin, stroking over it like a soft breeze and their eyes were almost shut when she suddenly pulled back.

"Does that mean I actually do get treated to something else than a hot dog tonight?" she inquired, their faces remaining close but far enough away so they were able to look at each other.

Cursing her silently for denying him the kiss, he stared at her, nevertheless his thumbs began to brush over her hands like they had earlier, his lips then curling into a grin.

"Can you cook?" he asked, instead of complying an answer. His voice and features were challenging since he knew all too well that while she was able to, she didn't do it too often nor took much pleasure out of it.

"Can you?" she shot back while, too, being aware of the response.

"Chemical cocktails," he smirked, making her mirror his action.

"I think I'll stick with the hot dog," she decided, "but we could talk about the chemical cocktail for dessert," she added flirtatiously, her smirk fading to an ambiguous smile.

Inevitably his heart rate rocketed skywards and while he tried as best as he could to keep his control, curiosity took over faster than he had thought possible. He had previously wondered if she was a passionate or more sensual and seductive lover – not too often, of course, only in the loneliest of nights and it was what he considered to be his darkest secret. Nonetheless, he had settled on a mixture of both, probably depending on her mood but that was where his imagination had stopped, anything else not compatible with his chivalrous and honorable code of conduct.

Now though, he was allowed to fantasize and despite fighting the emotions chasing through his body, he was suddenly quite keen on finding out whether he had been right.

"I think I – like – the idea," he confirmed surprisingly calm, yet the pleasure in her eyes told him that something in his features was showing the effect her words had had on him.

"But first," he added, stepping closer to her, "I want the appetizer," he finished and when his eyes dropped shut a second later, his lips grazed hers.

The tender touch send a flash of sparks rushing through their bodies and he felt her grip around his hand tightening as she shifted closer. The smile she still had had on her mouth faded as she instantly responded this time, quickly adjusting to the gentle caressing.

There was a lot more confidence in their kiss, their lips already at ease with each other, knowing how to meet the other ones to cause soft tingles of delight. Nevertheless it was still a journey of exploration, everything that was connected to the kiss something for them to discover. Each touch seemed to be distinct, capturing what the one before hadn't, leading them where they hadn't been.

Emotions swept through them, sensations which they had previously felt yet the intensity had multiplied. It was that which gave them an entirely different meaning, which made them special; unique.

More and more clearly the attraction they had held inside for a while now came through, making them hungry for more and attempting to up the level of passion, Mac drew her further in to him. However, the moment he did he felt her back away, his eyes fluttering open in slight confusion. Hers were still closed and she visibly continued to enjoy every tiny touch of their lips but that didn't change anything about her letting their loving play fade.

He considered closing his eyes for the final moments of the kiss but opted against it, wanting to watch her as their mouth gradually parted. There were innumerable emotions crossing her features, each of them showing the pure joy she was clearly feeling inside. That remained even when her lips left his and for an instant he had the impression that she didn't even breathe. She appeared to be frozen in time yet all of a sudden she inched closer, a small smile on her lips.

"More comes with dessert," she murmured into his ear, her warm breath tickling along his spine right through his skin. Barely noticeably her lips grazed his earlobe, the tickle building to a rush of emotions and inevitably he felt himself hold his breath.

The small smile that still graced her lips when she leaned back again only confirmed that every move and touch had been calculated and purposely executed, her innocent features playing with him coquettishly.

"Maybe we should just forgo the main course then," he suggested, his eyes finding hers while he stepped even closer, his body pressing against hers now.

"There is no way I'll give up my hot dog," she stated unimpressed and he couldn't help but laugh.

His eyes, though, studied her, marveling over her ability to remain in control. It made him even more curious about what was to come later and he placed another quick kiss on her lips before wanting to draw his hands away from hers. She didn't let him though but instead her features grew serious again, her eyes seeking out his, wrapping him into the sheer endless seeming depth. An incredible warmth spread through his body, filling every bone, every muscles on its way to his heart. That, too, filled instantly; filled with that warmth that represented her, making it so unmistakably clear who his heart belonged to – and had for quite a while now.

"I love you, Mac," she said, her voice sounding like the whisper of the wind but nevertheless so definite and distinct.

Unwilling to respond with words, he lovingly squeezed her hands, their gazes still lost in the other one's and only reluctantly did they allow reality to grasp them again. Drawing his hands away from hers, breaking the physical connection his body still had with hers and gentlemanly he opened the door for her then hurried around the car to climb on the driver's seat. Once more, their eyes locked, a smile forming on both of their faces before they tore away simultaneously. In a swift motion Mac started the engine and a moment later they left the parking garage, driving off into their future of happily ever after.


End file.
